On this episode of Vice Principal on Office. Join me, your host, lisa Hill, for part two of Come September. I'll Miss Some of you as I continue to share what it's really like to retire not once but twice, from awkward goodbyes and farewell cakes to the emotional rollercoaster of walking away from a place you gave so much to and sometimes couldn't wait to leave. It's all part of the ride, whether you're dreaming of retirement or just wondering who ate the last piece of sheet cake. This one's for you. Now let's get laughing and learning. Attention, students, I mean listeners. The stories in this podcast are told from the host's personal and farcical point of view. All names and identifiers have been omitted or altered to protect identities. Now get to class and enjoy the show. Hello folks, welcome back. I'm so glad you're here for part two of Come September. I'll Miss Some of you. Did you miss me? I know at least some of you did Get it Wordplay off the title. Well, I thought it was funny. Anyway, I hope all the dads out there had a great Father's Day. I gave a little nod to my own dad and you know I wonder what he would have thought about my whole podcasting adventure. He probably would have said something like you're just like your mother, which is funny because she often says I'm just like him, so hopefully I got the best parts of each Either way. I'm pretty sure they're both responsible for my sense of humor, thank goodness. But let me tell you, when you're riding the K-12 public education train, you need a good laugh to survive that journey, and I hope you laughed plenty during part one of this episode.
Speaker 1:As you might recall, in part one of this episode, as you might recall, in part one of this episode, I started unpacking some of the strange and surprisingly emotional moments that come with school retirement and I had my very first guest interview with my dear friend and colleague, lynn Lang. She shared what it was like to teach alongside me and then step into retirement herself, and I think we can all agree that our retired friend nailed it when she said I'll miss some of you, because that's what happens you miss some of the people. However, even the most seasoned educators feel a little tug at their heartstrings as they pack up and head off into the next chapter of their life at the conclusion of their end-of-the-year farewell celebration. Hell, even I got choked up leaving most schools, I said most. Let's not get carried away away. You know, when I think about it.
Speaker 1:Maybe part of my emotional pull goes all the way back to my very first memory of a retiring teacher, when I was in fourth grade. My elementary school had just started this thing called grade looping classrooms. Basically, you have the same teacher for multiple years. Great idea in theory, especially when you love your teacher, which I did. My fourth grade teacher was the best Kind, firm and funny, the kind of teacher who made you feel seen. So when I found out she'd be my teacher again in fifth grade, I was thrilled. But when the new school year started she was gone. No goodbye, no explanation, just gone. No goodbye, no explanation, just gone. I came home crying after school, totally devastated, and I remember asking my mom why didn't she tell us she was leaving? Now, as an adult and a longtime educator myself, I get it. Some people prefer to quietly slip out the back door to avoid the fanfare, like my friend Lynn mentioned in part one. Still, I've never forgotten that teacher. In fact I've thought of her often during my 38-year career. I've never found out what happened to her, but I do know this. If she had told us she was retiring, we would have celebrated her the only way fourth graders know how, with messy art projects, a few misspelled cards and a whole lot of love. Now let's jump ahead to my high school years.
Speaker 1:One of my best friends and I worked summers at a country club From high school all the way through college. We worked in this tiny little grill stand next to the pool flipping burgers and handing out fries while watching side orders of pure entertainment. Our country club gig was, honest to God, like the movie Caddyshack. I'm not kidding, if you've seen the movie Caddyshack, then you've basically seen our job. And if you haven't seen the movie Caddyshack, well, you're missing out, because that movie was one wild, chaotic comedy from 1980. It was directed by Harold Ramis and he absolutely crushed it.
Speaker 1:I mean the kind of nonsense my friend and I experienced during our six summers at that country club you really can't make up. I'm talking about snobby members, employees who were way too friendly with the liquor cabinet and a few other substances, and a club manager who could have starred as the villain in his own sitcom. I mean, that job was prime comedy gold and my best friend and I we loved every minute of that ridiculous job. We literally laughed our way through all of it because there was always something to laugh about. In fact, we had so much fun at that job that, when it was time to move on into our adult lives, we threw ourselves a retirement party. Yep, true story. We had a full-blown burger-flippin' farewell to our country club careers. You see, we were graduating from college, so we knew it was time to trade in the old grill grease for a real job and put our college degrees to the test. And, of course, our parents agreed. So we hung up our aprons, literally.
Speaker 1:Our retirement party took place at a small bar called the Last Draw Saloon Perfect name, right? Friends, co-workers and even some of our favorite country club members came out to celebrate. And what a night it was. Let's just say I haven't touched peppermint schnapps since that party. Yeah, I think the Irish Rovers were right when they sang Tom Paxton's song. Wasn't that a Party? Go ahead, google it and you'll see why it was the perfect song for that night. Oh, those favorite country club members who came to our party. They actually bought us drinks and thanked us for our years of service flipping burgers. As for the country club itself, no, thank you. No cheap pen with the club's logo on it and not even a nod from the clubhouse manager Classic.
Speaker 1:And speaking of retirements, before I dive into my school retirement stories, let me just ask have you ever noticed how some school districts go all out when a superintendent retires? It's like a royal coronation. But when a building level educator you know the ones who actually worked with students day in and day out retires, it's usually some sheet cake in the media center and a balloon if you're lucky, and that's about it. Now I get it. The superintendent's job is tough. I personally never wanted it. Too many meetings, too much politics and way too much necktie energy for me. And sure they've got the degree, but hey, I've got the same degree. And there were plenty of times I came up with solutions that the superintendents well couldn't. And yet in all my years none of my schools ever rolled out the red carpet when I retired. Well, one district did an okay job. But it makes you wonder, right, maybe it was me, god. Maybe I should reflect on my own behavior. Nah, the truth is, most K-12 superintendents don't stay too long anyway. They pop in, shake things up and head off to what they think are bigger and better districts. Meanwhile, teachers and staff stay planted, often for decades in the same building serving the same community. And when they retire, it's that familiar end-of-the-year farewell celebration in the cafeteria or media center where the superintendent or board members are rarely seen. I don't know folks From where I stood. Teaching kids every day in a school building was way harder than sitting in a district office, attending six-hour meetings every other day, just saying.
Speaker 1:As for my retirements or farewells, well, let me tell you about one of them. After about 10 years at a particular school, I decided it was time for a change, you know, a fresh start. I'd given a decade of my energy, humor and hustle to that place and I enjoyed the job. It was tough, but I think that school grew in its abilities to serve students and I was happy to be part of that growth. So what did I get as a parting gift? A child's plastic pail and shovel Yep, you heard that right. A yellow plastic beach set handed to me with a smile and a thanks for shoveling our shit. I wish I were joking, but I'm not Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good workplace joke.
Speaker 1:Shoveling shit is a metaphor we all toss around, especially in education. But when you're standing in front of your colleagues at the end-of-the-year farewell celebration after 10 years of showing up, problem-solving, mentoring and occasionally dragging the whole building forward with sheer willpower. Being handed a plastic pail and told good luck with whatever's next just kind of makes you go. Why in the hell does anyone even try? Of course I laughed with everyone. I always do. I've got a pretty solid sense of humor and I try to find the funny in almost everything, even when it's at my own expense. And yes, this is a 100% true story.
Speaker 1:The pale was bright yellow, not my favorite color, unless it's on a house which, by the way, I do like yellow houses because they look clean and cheerful, but a toy pale not so much. Anyway, like I've said before, you can't make this shit up, not even the shit you've been shoveling, which turned out to be quite a bit of shit by the time I got to the end of my career. Quite a bit of shit by the time I got to the end of my career. So clearly I must have really loved helping people and kids, because I sure wasn't in it for the shitty gifts. Lisa Ann, I did not teach you to speak like this. Oh, I know, mom, believe me, I know. I think I better move on. Of course, leaving or retiring from a school district isn't just about the gifts Although, let's be honest, that damn plastic pail lives rent-free in my memory.
Speaker 1:But over the years I did receive some truly heartfelt thank yous from colleagues. Some Notice I said some heartfelt thank yous from colleagues Some Noticed I said some and, to be fair, I was probably just as guilty as anyone else when it came to not always saying thank you like I should have. Hey, don't tell my mom that, but you get busy and you get tired and sometimes you just assume people know how much you appreciated working with them. God, I hope I at least tried. I hope I made it clear that I valued the people around me Well, most of them. So if you're listening now, I'm sorry if I never said it I really did appreciate the work you did, the work we all did for kids, families and for each other.
Speaker 1:Okay, let's talk about the first time I decided to retire. Yes, as I previously stated, I retired more than once, remember, I'm quick to get bored, though I believe this last retirement has kind of stuck so far. Anyway, my first end of the year, farewell celebration, came about two weeks before the actual last day of school. Now this particular district gave me a small, beautifully handmade wooden box and let me tell you it was way better than that damn yellow plastic pail and shovel. I got from a different district. This box had my name and years of service engraved on a shiny fake gold plate Fancy right Now. I have to admit, I chuckled to myself when they handed me the box, for two reasons. One, I already knew I was going to receive it it's kind of a retirement standard in that district. And two, those little boxes have always reminded me of something you'd use to hold your loved one's ashes, which honestly felt kind of fitting for an old burnout educator.
Speaker 1:But here's the kicker. I worked in that district for 13 years, but the plaque on the box said 12. Why? Because it was two weeks before the last day of school and apparently someone at the district office decided my final year didn't count, since it technically wasn't over yet. I'm not kidding 12 years engraved even though I was just days away from completing my 13th year. Have you ever heard of anything so stupid? But hey, that's K-12 public education for you. It's moments like these that explain why so many things get screwed up. I mean, come on people. You couldn't wait two more weeks or better. Yet just round up and give me full credit instead of ignoring my last year of work. Lord only knows what other kooky decisions are being made behind closed doors in that district.
Speaker 1:Hold on, this story gets better because inside that beautiful little wooden box which, yes, may one day hold my ashes was a wait for it a lifetime activity pass to attend any school event in the district Football games, musicals, wrestling meets, band concerts you know all the events I used to supervise and secretly dreaded going to. And to this day one of my dear administrator friends still laughs about that gift. And in case you're wondering, no, I have never used that damn pass, not once. As for the actual building end of the year farewell celebration for me, I got a few polite thank yous and that was about it, not even a sheet cake. Maybe folks were confused about whether I worked their 12 or needed to finish my 13th year, who knows. Either way, I left with a box, a pass and a great story. Left with a box, a pass and a great story.
Speaker 1:Now I do want to say I was genuinely appreciative of that district's gesture the wooden box, the activity pass and the thank yous from my colleagues at the building level. It all meant something to me. I really did feel appreciated. Meant something to me. I really did feel appreciated, even if the details were a little off.
Speaker 1:So why I decided to come out of retirement and give K-12 public education another go, I have no idea. Maybe I was holding out for that sheet cake. But yep, back to work. I went and, wouldn't you know it, the reverse happened when I retired again. So when I decided to retire for a second time, I figured, hey, 38 years in K-12 public education, I'll go out with a little fanfare, maybe even finally get that golden apple this district handed out to their retirees.
Speaker 1:But nope, according to that district office, I didn't qualify Apparently. You had to work at least 10 years in their district to even be acknowledged as a retiree. What the hell people? 38 years in public education, multiple districts, thousands of students and families, blood, sweat, tears and more. This was the first time I'd ever heard of a district refusing to honor someone's retirement just because they hadn't been there a full decade. Every other district I'd worked for had always recognized service, no matter how long you'd been there, but not this one. Their idea of a retirement send-off for those not qualifying. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.
Speaker 1:Now, to be fair, my building level colleagues came through in the best way. When I walked out of that school for the last time, I got heartfelt goodbyes, genuine thank yous and a sheet cake finally, and even a thoughtful gift. But from the district leadership, nothing, not a word, not a card, not even a hey congrats. And by that last day I didn't even care anymore. I didn't even care anymore. Okay, you probably all know this is coming. So here's my rant for this episode Buckle up. If you're a school leader, please do not do what that district did to me. Much like how good classroom instruction is, just that good classroom instruction, no matter where it happens.
Speaker 1:A job in K-12 education is still a job in K-12 education, no matter the district, the town or the zip code. And, let's be honest, today's work in education. It's tough every single day. So, dear K-12 leaders, take a minute, just a minute. Step out of your endless meetings and emails and honor your people. Why? Because they chose to work for your district. Yes, you hired them, but, trust me, they looked you up first. They read the mission statement. They checked the vibe and then they gave you years, sometimes decades, of their life. And if your district can't swing another golden apple, fine, do something else. Write a personal note, make a shout out, buy a cupcake. Just acknowledge them, because it really ain't that hard.
Speaker 1:As for that district office's lack of acknowledgement of my 38-year career in education, I probably shouldn't have been surprised. Career in education I probably shouldn't have been surprised, because this is the same district office that gave me a blank stare when I first showed up on the job. And let me just say I didn't walk in dragging my feet. I'm a team player. I've got energy and I'm not new to the game. I've got a PhD in educational leadership. I've supported multiple school districts, taught graduate courses to future administrators, spoken at conferences and even served on a state board.
Speaker 1:So, yeah, I came ready to help. I wasn't trying to take over. I genuinely wanted to support the team and improve education beyond just my building. I thought that was the whole point of leadership and I don't mean to sound cocky, but I was good at my job. That's why I offered. Yet every time I extended the offer to help the district, I was met with the same response A blank stare like I had just spoken in Klingon or something. So in hindsight I guess the radio silence when I retired shouldn't have shocked me.
Speaker 1:Thankfully, my colleagues at the building level threw me a beautiful second end of the year farewell celebration Sheet cake, plastic tablecloths, balloons, the works and I loved it. I loved working with that team. They were the real deal. Of course I also loved the folks I worked with during my first retirement too. Seems like I've been blessed to work with great people, just not always great leadership. But I've got to tell you my second retirement party was way better than my husband's first retirement send-off. And that's saying something off, and that's saying something. You see, my wonderful husband worked for.
Speaker 1:Answer Vendoland, yep, vendoland, that magical little corner of the office where the vending machines hum and dreams go to die. Apparently. Retirement parties at his office went something like this. Parties at his office went something like this At some predetermined point in the day, co-workers are herded toward Vendoland where they stand around awkwardly for about 10 minutes, make some small talk, listen to the boss mumble a generic farewell speech, usually about someone they barely know clap politely, grab a sad slice of sheet cake and then shuffle back to their desks. That's it no balloons, no fanfare, just snack machines and existential dread. Naturally, I couldn't let that be the last chapter in my husband's career, so I threw him a real retirement party at an actual bar, with actual people and actual alcohol Much needed alcohol, I might add, for those state workers trying to recover from their Vendoland trauma. No, my husband did not throw me a party for either of my retirements, but that's okay. I did get a couple cruises out of the deal and he didn't stay retired too long either. But I gotta say, after watching his experience I've come to believe that K-12 educators at least try a little harder when it comes to celebrating their colleagues. I mean, we might only get a cafeteria or a media center, but at least there's a plastic tablecloth involved, maybe a balloon, definitely more than 10 minutes and, thank God, no vending machines.
Speaker 1:Now I believe that some friends, whether from childhood or the workplace, stay in your life forever Because there's a deep alignment, a shared growth, mutual respect and an unspoken sense that, no matter how life shifts, the bond adjusts and endures. These friendships survive distance, silence and change, because both people keep choosing each other again and again, like my friend Lynn. But there's other friendships, those best buddies from school or work, that quietly end when that chapter of your life closes, not because of conflict or failure, it's just the end, you know. I think friendships are about rhythm and timing and a completion of growth. Some people are the main characters in your life story, while others are essential cameos. So your goodbyes or your end-of-the-year farewell celebrations might just be that Goodbye. Farewell celebrations might just be that Goodbye.
Speaker 1:I recently read an article titled the Last Meeting Theory by Lorenzo McCoy and it stuck with me. It perfectly captured the feeling I get when people drift out of my life. The idea is this At some point you'll run into a friend, an ex, a former co-worker for the very last time and you won't even realize it. You might exchange a quick hey, how have you been? Share a smile, a wave, maybe a hug at a farewell event and then that's it. That was the final chapter of that relationship, closed quietly. It's both beautiful and bittersweet.
Speaker 1:The idea that people come into your life for a reason or a season isn't new, but the last meaning theory reframes those moments not as sad endings but as meaningful conclusions. It suggests that once we've taught each other what we're meant to perhaps love, growth, healing, patience. Fate steps in, not with conflict or distance, but with a gentle nudge that the relationship has served its purpose. And when that purpose is fulfilled, the universe points you both in new directions. No drama, no big goodbye, just a final quiet moment. It's life saying this story mattered. Now it's time for the next one. Now some of you might think I'm a little crazy, and maybe I am, but think about the people who have come and gone in your life. Think about how the last meeting theory might apply. Think about how the last meeting theory might apply, especially to those school friendships.
Speaker 1:For me, I often didn't realize it was the last meeting until years later. But that's part of the beauty. Not all goodbyes need fanfare. Some just need a little space, a little silence and the grace to let go. So, yes, those end of the year farewell celebrations are often the last meeting, and maybe the lack of fanfare is a gift itself, though I still think sheet cake is a nice touch.
Speaker 1:One year my colleagues threw a dinner for those of us who were leaving. Everyone seemed happy, sipping much-needed drinks and laughing about some crazy things that happened over the school year. But I noticed one colleague who looked sad and was quietly wiping away a few tears, I walked over and asked if they were okay. They looked up and said I wasn't crying because you were leaving. I just smiled, walked away and grabbed another beer and that was our last meeting. And it was also the moment I truly understood why my retired friend was right.
Speaker 1:Some people Now I am sure there were times I was a pain in the ass to work with. But honestly, if you might be having your last meeting with someone and don't even know it, a little kindness isn't too hard to muster up. Then again maybe it is isn't too hard to muster up. Then again maybe it is. I once attended an end-of-the-year farewell celebration where the exiting staff member gave gifts, but only to a select few who were staying. Now, I'd seen this kind of gesture before, but it was usually gag gifts meant to make everyone laugh. But this time was different. The retiree gave a brief general thank you to the whole staff and then went on to gush over a handful of favorite colleagues. These chosen few were presented with very thoughtful and very nice gifts. You could feel the energy in the room shift. The applause got a little quieter with each name called.
Speaker 1:Now I'm not saying those standout educators didn't deserve a heartfelt thank you. They did. But let's be real. When the rest of the staff gets nothing but a sliver of sheet cake for sticking around for another year public displays of favoritism can leave a bad taste in your mouth Then again it could be the sheet cake. But what if that moment was the last meeting with everyone?
Speaker 1:I've also witnessed end-of of the year farewell celebrations where staff members who are leaving, sometimes after years of service for another job, aren't even acknowledged. No cake, no card, no thank you, not even a mention, just quietly fading out of the building like the last kid at a sleepover who forgot to call for their ride. That kind of farewell leaves everyone walking away with a weird feeling, a little icky, unless it was the sheet cake again. But seriously, if you're a school leader or any kind of leader, acknowledge your people, especially the ones who are leaving. K-12 schools are just like any other business and you want good reviews, not just from students and parents, but from your staff too. So a short, heartfelt thank you, like the one I got from the attorney I worked for for three months, can go further than you think. And yes, if you can throw in some sheet cake. And here's my last story.
Speaker 1:For some reason I always ended up being the one in the school building who had to organize appreciation gifts, retirement gifts, teacher appreciation day, custodian day. If it involved a card, a gift bag or a spreadsheet, it somehow landed on my plate. For a while I thought maybe it was because I was the only woman on an all-male team. But nope, turns out gender had nothing to do with it. Appreciation gifts just always had a way of finding me.
Speaker 1:So when I decided to retire for the first time from a school building, I didn't think to order a retirement gift for myself. But I probably should have, because, aside from some applause at the end of the year farewell celebration, I got nothing. Not even a yellow plastic pail and shovel, not even a piece of sheet cake for all my years of effort, of sheet cake for all my years of effort. So when my second retirement came around, I wised up and said screw it. I ordered my own retirement gift, something I actually liked, and I proudly displayed it in my living room. But that second retirement also came with a sheet cake and, to my surprise, a very thoughtful gift from the entire staff. Huh, I guess all those years of organizing for everyone else finally paid off.
Speaker 1:So there you go, stories of what can happen at a retiree's end of the year farewell celebration. And I can guarantee you that when you decide to leave your workplace for a new job or retirement, you will look around at all of your colleagues seated before you in the cafeteria, media center, or hopefully not the dreaded Vendoland, and sing so long farewell. Come fall, I'll miss some of you. Adieu, adieu to you and you well, not you. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, well, except for you. Well, kids, the dismissal bell is ringing. So until next time on.
Speaker 1:Vice Principal on Office, push in your chair, put your name on your paper, be kind to your classmates, put away your phone and use your indoor voice, or not. Thanks for listening, and I hope you enjoyed the tales from Vice Principal on Office as much as I enjoyed sharing them. And it is also my hope that you were not only entertained by this episode, but that you walked away with a little nugget of knowledge that gave you some insight on how working in a school is not for the faint of heart. And don't forget, life is short. So you got to do the best you can to leave the world in a better place than when you got here. And, of course, for the love of God, see the humor in life. It's a lot more fun and a little easier to get through the ick in life with a smile on your face. Trust me, with what I've experienced throughout my career, I'd be like a peppery, saucy waitress, you know, like a tangy old taco if I hadn't smiled through the ick. Catch you in.
Speaker 1:Two weeks on Vice Principal Unauficed. Next time on Vice Principal Unauficed. Join me your host, lisa Hill, as I dive into school fire safety, or lack thereof, thanks to the adults working in the building, and while no one within a school I worked at ever got hurt, the decisions the adults made during the ringing of the fire alarm makes one wonder how the school building didn't just turn into a pile of ash. So tune in to Vice Principal Law Office on July 1st for the fun episode titled the Accidental Fire Marshal. Hey, students, I mean listeners. Thanks again for tuning in and if you've enjoyed today's show, please leave me a review. It really helps grow the show. And don't forget to hit the follow button so you don't miss an episode. Trust me, you don't want to be late for this detention and, listeners.
Speaker 1:If you've got a school story of your own that you'd like to share with Vice Principal on Office, I'd love to hear it. Just head over to my podcast website and fan mail, or email me. Your story and who knows, your story might even get a shout out on a future episode. Thanks so much for listening and for your support. Vice Principal on Office is an independent podcast with everything you hear done by me, lisa Hill, and supported through Buzzsprout.
Speaker 1:Any information from today's show, along with any links and resources, are available in the show's notes. So if you want to do a little homework and dive deeper into anything I've mentioned, head over to my podcast website and check it out. And a big thank you to Matthew Chiam with Pixabay for the show's marvelous theme music. And, of course, a huge shout out to my mother. A huge shout out to my mother. This podcast is for the purpose of entertainment only, like the recess of your day, and not a platform for debates about public education Though you never know, you could learn something. And just a reminder that the stories shared in this podcast represent one lens, which is based on my personal experiences and interpretations, and also reflect my unique perspective through humor. Names, dates and places have been changed or admitted to protect identities and should not be considered universally applicable. Until next time, keep laughing and learning.